Gulmohar

As we left the Bangalore railway station and hopped on the bus to mysore, my eyes started searching for something familiar. Not until we came outside the city and had crossed the famous 'ramgarh of sholay' did happen the first sighting. Of a full blossomed Gulmohar.

Territories were no longer marked. I felt at ease. Then the banter and chatting with friends. And a 6 month long training. Then home coming.

Everyday en route office, I am right (like a birth right one may say) fully engrossed in a book. On a rare occasion I was shutting close the bus window when I spotted them in a row. At that moment I felt, nothing could make me happier.

kirnon ka sona,
os ke moti,
motiyon sa mogra
tera bichauna, 
bhar bhar ke daroon,
gulmohar ka tokra
aur jo bhi chaho,
maango ji maango,
bolo ji, meri maina
( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YIYR4QEd6s4 - gulzar's lyrics!)

Right now I am searching for a way to bring the perfect orange hues home. Got any clue ? :)

from google
waited 2 days to click a shot myself, can wait no more..

~nightflier

P.S. Gulmohar is my favoretest (or most favorite - much to the chagrin of my english teacher) flowering tree.

IF...

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!


-Rudyard Kipling

Found it in a pile of stuff.

~nightflier

I am here to solve.. umm.. stuff?

I was reading some random article (as usual) between breaks at work. Came across this question 'so why are you here for?' in one of them. How can "I" of all the people avoid such an existential riddle.


So I was thinking. What makes me feel alive? Hmm.
Solving problems does give me kicks. Real. And it really motivates me. Makes me want to jump with joy. Sink in despair. Cause a lot of chaos. But it does make me feel good in general.
Of course you will ask, then why aren't you Einstein or some such person? To that my retort is - 'I am just 27 you mean person. What do you know!' Hmmpf. The comparisons! I will just be a skinny problem solver girl ok?
And at least I did not say world peace or Mother Teresa. ok?
So anyway having found something worthwhile as an answer for myself and ridiculed myself at the same time, I am feeling pretty awesome!


Also if you read this and knowingly throw more tricky problems towards me, I will literally behave as if you don't exist. Fair no?


Also I am here to experience stuff. Even silly things like watching my bus go past me in the morning and then running after it in slow realization. Serious. Today I experienced this - the silk route and was a wanderer with the photographer. I like such evocative stuff. Makes my quest to experience and feel so much easier.


Another thing which totally gives me a high, super womanish feel is cooking. Here you can take as many tests you want and throw whatever you want toward me. I will be a super fast, duper cool ninja and turn it into something one can eat. one = any animal.


Don't believe it? Take this for demo - Had a lot of leftover veggies like half zucchini, handful cherry tomatoes, half cucumber, a kairi (raw mango) slice, bunch of spring onions, some spinach leaves, coconut. And for a lack of any other combination of all-these-together possible, I made a stew and just added to the sambar (south Indian style lentils). Very healthy goat-like I felt.

made from scratch!

On a day like today, I feel like I am here to do so much. Great illusions such days are :)


~nightflier

Pickled aaloo

Stumbling upon recipes while reading chic-lit is most serendipitous! 
The Indian summer in its full glory does sap you out of a desire to eat a proper meal. And even adding zingy salads, to the menu has not been helping me.


While reading her book I came across a very desi (Indian) aaloo (potato) dish. I got all excited to bring it to form. From words to my kitchen. 


Ta-dah!


Lets just move to the recipe:
* Boil potatoes, depending on number of people. I boiled 5 small ones for 2. Try to keep them a little uncooked so as avoid mashing later on.
* Once boiled and cooled, cut the potatoes in big square chunky pieces.
* Heat a dollop of butter (the goodness!) in a pan and add the potatoes to it.
* Sprinkle salt and a generous amount of chaat masala. Improvisation on my part - I added pani puri masala and aamchoor (dry mango/kairi powder) as did not have any chaat masala.
* Gently toss the mixture and let the potatoes turn brown.
* Improvisation number 2 - Add finely cut green pepper (mirchi) and cilantro (coriander leaves).
* Now the awesome secret of the recipe. Add any achaar (pickle) masala to this and mix well and let it simmer for a while. I added mango pickle masala. Any other should work too.


Serve hot! Rather eat from the pan the way I did :D

butter is the key!

post a secret

I saw a TED talk from the creator of this website. Inspired me to write my own. Of course I am not much for anonymity. So might as well share stuff openly.


* As a kid I used to think that channel V VJ's and MTV VJ's were rivals like India-Pakistan. I used to think and still think that they don't talk to or mingle with each other and give each other 'the cold shoulder'. Used to think same about India Pakistan cricket teams. Have never admitted it to anyone with the thought of making myself appear lame. Yet.


* One day, I bought a really expensive jacket from a store. After 15 days when I realized that my monthly budget was screwed up, I returned the jacket to get my money back.


* I once broke a lamp at our neighbor's place when they were out of town and we were given the keys for weekly maintenance. I am not sure if that aunty knows about it.


* I still get confused between 'talk to' 'speak with' or is it 'talk with' 'speak to' ?


* I had tweeted about it once. But everytime, I have some kind of epiphany or solve a problem, I feel like I am the only one who has got it. Then I get disappointed that a lot of people have cracked a lot of stuff wayyy before me.
(she puts it much better than me - http://bandragirl.tumblr.com/post/14894793844/148)


* Sometimes I don't really like the book/song/movie/dress/tailor/dish reco-ed by a friend. So I go over it again and again to find something I like/adore and go back to them with my opinion. Many times I dont form any opinion. I gravely fear that a clash of opinions might ruin stuff between people.


* I am really praying for my wallet to come back to me somehow. First it was gifted by brother. Second it was a universe of its own. I do believe in the system and people and police. 


* Sometimes I feel really mean towards people who are younger than me. Like today the kids playing downstairs asked me to pass their football. I was tempted to be a prick and wanted to ask them to come and get it themselves. But I could not do it. Someday.


* I like being an agony aunt. I like people coming to me and sharing their problems/troubles. Like it even more if they share their happiness. I slightly hate it when my close friends go to their other close friends with their life tale. I am selfish that way.


* I am not a digger for profanity or voyeurism, but sometimes the things people say and do just makes me chuckle (laugh out loud inside my head).


* Sometimes I say mean things to people I love and then I cry over it and pray to god to erase it as soon as possible. Despite all grown up wisdom. I am a digger for selective forgetfulness.


* many more to get added.


~nightflier

Kissa of the hoarder

I am a page 3 hoarder.
If there was a contest, I would not only be the crowned queen, but also someone you take tips from. About hoarding.


What do I have in my wallet.
My very first traffic signal violation receipt (or ticket as they call in some countries).
My Imagine cup gift card. All out of cash, but still a worthy resident in that top slot of my wallet.
The USCIS EAD card. The very same which arrived late, lost me a dream job. In a side slot, just to remind me of stuff I am capable of. Like procrastination.
My school ID card.
Movie tickets of 'hey baby'.
Air India flight ticket from Mumbai-Chicago.
Stick notes written to myself.
My IEEE membership card.
3 band-aids.
2 toothpicks.
1 safety pin.


All safely tucked in slots, compartments.
Not that I look at all these everyday.


But I lost the wallet today. Or maybe someone stole it.
May be karma is telling me to let go.
Or universe will bring it back to me.


Whatever.


Of course 'it's just a wallet' you might think.


~nightflier

My profound moment of growing up - II

Pre-script: Loooooong wordy post!


The thing with some memories is once your mind enters their time zone, you have to write stuff down. Last night with an unwarranted power cut and trying to sleep to wake up earlier than usual, I went off to lala land. I was 14 then. Memories were spawning one after the another. And here I am giving them words.


I was in 9th standard and was selected as part of a students' group who would work as writers for blind students for their board (10th standard) exams. For us to take this assignment seriously, we were asked to engage in one on one sessions with our respective collaborators and listen. The girl I was supposed to write for told me a lot about herself, from where she was, her family, and how she wanted to become a teacher on growing up. Some habits are age proof. I was as awkward talking about myself freely, as I am now. (If I know you from previous meetings, the case would have reversed, with me going jabber-jabber). So apart from the fact that we both wanted to grow up to become teachers, I was happy in my teenagey ways that I did not make it any more uncomfortable. For her or myself. 


As the exams approached, I felt a huge weight of responsibility. I was not a precocious (I am so proud of this :P) kid, but I had a habit of taking everything in school uber-seriously. From day one I tried to be a good listener. We progressed from the languages to the sciences smoothly. For every exam I would patiently listen to her and write the answers in the most legit handwriting, without hurrying. During our informal training sessions we were told that sometimes we would need to complete some sentences (answers) on our own. In short we were allowed to transcribe some parts which we judged as incoherent. So I was pretty happy that I was able to do that for her on a daily basis, in sync. We had developed good chemistry. And thus came the last exam, Geography. Well last for me, as some other 6th standard student was supposed to write the mathematics exam. 
So during one long answer question, her mind suddenly went blank. She started panicking. I tried to reassure her, telling her that we would come back to that question later, after finishing other parts. The good thing was we used to get 30 minutes extra than other exam takers, as the listening-then writing down process was a bit tedious. So she somehow managed to answer the rest of the questions. But she had lost her confidence. The answers were not as good as she was capable of. Anyway we carried on. So when I came back to that question, she was still blank. She was in such panic now, that she started crying. Once her bout of crying was done she asked me if I would copy the answer from the coursebook she had with her.


Now here's the thing about cheating and my stance on it as a 14 year old. Even though I was a teacher's pet and all that, I had a slight rebel streak and had helped my friends during school exams by showing them answers. I don't judge myself for that. I know it must have felt thrilling. To whisper in the presence of an invigilator. 


So when she asked me to copy an answer, just one answer, I went into this huge dilemma. I thought over it so much in a self righteous manner, that time got over and I had to return the answer sheet. Of course, I lied to her telling that I had written the answer. In short a typical CnH moment like this one -> 

After that incident I got busy with my own exams and school routine. Living with the morbid fear of having screwed up her exams and possibly ruining her chance for good education, subconsciously (yes! I was a drama queen at the age of 14!). 


After a dreaded wait for 4 months, I came to know when my school reopened that everyone we wrote exams for had passed and the girl I wrote exams for had got 68%. No one's life screwed. HUGEST SIGH OF RELIEF EVER.


Last night when I was reminiscing this in my head, I realized how such moral issues were the core of my existence when I was 14. Felt amusing. Specially when I judged my 14 year old self for her overtly righteous behavior. Also feels peaceful to finally have penned this down.


~nightflier